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If he were wearing a backpack like me, I would probably slide off. But this pompous ass went for a shoulder bag, so I have free rein to latch onto him.
“Wha—”
His question is cut off by my vise grip on his neck, and committing fully to the move, I sling my legs around his waist.
“Can’t sit down if you don’t have a back!” My proclamation won’t win any Academy Awards, but I’m pretty pleased with it.
Lucifer wraps his large hand around my wrist, and I fully expect him to pry me off. Instead, he merely tugs my arm down enough to release the pressure on his throat. Then, surprising the hell out of me, he moves his other hand to cup my thigh.
It’s almost as if he’s supporting my weight. Like we’re friends and he’s giving me a piggyback ride.
Like this isn’t a battle of epic proportions.
As we wobble drunkenly, locked together, I try to come to terms with his warm palm on my exposed skin. Then, I get another shock when the expanse of his back, pressed tightly against my front, begins to shake.
With all the adrenaline coursing through my body, I take longer than I should to realize that he’s cracking up.
“You-you climbed me! Like I’m a-a tree! An-and you’re a sq-squirrel!” he chokes out the comparison and actually falls down to one knee because he’s laughing so hard.
This is my chance. I should let go, push him to the side while he’s distracted. Claim my prize.
But I can’t seem to convince my arms to release him. Instead, I hold tight, committing to wherever this wild ride takes me. I’m entwined with a virtual stranger, yet for some reason, the embrace doesn’t seem awkward at all.
With my head practically buried in his neck, I can’t help breathing in whatever that amazing soap is he uses. Lucifer belongs in a spice rack, the smell of cloves clinging to his messy brown hair.
Unaware that I’ve upped my crazy factor a few more notches by sniffing him, he gasps out a couple more chuckles before standing up again. Wearing me like a jacket, he saunters through the shelves.
“Don’t know how you expect this to work, Shorty.”
He turns his head to smile over his shoulder, and I rear mine back, so I can properly glare at him.
“I expect you to admit that you’ve been physically bested and to give up The Chair.”
“Oh, physically bested, am I? Well, from my angle—”
My gasp cuts off whatever witty comeback he might have had.
Lucifer whips his head around, and no doubt, he immediately sees what brought on my horrified reaction.
The sight is so devastating that I lose all strength in my limbs, sliding down his body to settle unsteadily on my feet.
“The Chair …” I whimper.
The humor has disappeared from his face. All that’s left is angry bewilderment.
“It’s gone.”
8
NATHAN
Shorty stompsout of the elevator. The angry walk makes her round bottom bounce.
She’d probably punch me in the stomach if I pointed it out. And even worse, she’d probably try to make it stop.
I can’t believe she jumped on me.
The sensation of her clinging to my back isn’t something I’ll soon forget. She was all muscular legs and hot breath on my neck. When I got over how hilarious it was, my body picked up on the fact that a cute girl was wrapped around me. And now, I’m having trouble focusing on anything other than how I can convince her to climb up on me again.
